


because (of our differences)

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Jaskier is a harpy, Geralt is a merman, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24239446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: The islands were a small bundle of islands, deep in the sea, lush and green.Apparently, based on the merpeople, the islands were inhabited by their natural sworn enemy. The thing was, they never told him what their natural sworn enemy was. Just to stay away from the islands. Geralt had never been one for blindly following rules.He never would’ve guessed what they were, or that he would meet one on that particular day.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 13
Kudos: 228





	because (of our differences)

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: queermight / tumblr: korrmin

Geralt met Jaskier when he was young. For his species, of course. He had already long reached physical maturation, but he was still mentally far from grown when he made a habit of swimmingtoo close to the islands. He had heard of their dangers, and had decided they were nonsense. 

Now he swam to them for the privacy, to have time away from the others. 

The islands weren’t the _shore_ ; the shore was where the humans lived, and he had only seen it once or twice during excursions with his mother, and even _he_ had no interest in conversing with humans. 

The islands were a small bundle of islands, deep in the sea, lush and green. 

Apparently, based on the merpeople, the islands were inhabited by their natural sworn enemy. The thing was, they never told him _what_ their natural sworn enemy was. Just to stay away from the islands. Geralt had never been one for blindly following rules.

He never would’ve guessed what they were, or that he would meet one on that particular day. 

Swimming to the smallest of the islands, he sighed, grateful for the quiet. Tilting his head back, he floated in the water for a while, the sun warm on his face. He didn’t know how long he was there, just relaxing, taking advantage of the blessed silence, until suddenly there was a loud whooshing and wind whipping his cheeks.

Geralt quickly lifted his head, eyes snapping open. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, maybe just a generally large bird; they seemed to be the most frequent visitors to the islands. But he was wrong. Mostly. It was a bird, or a birdlike creature, with the largest wings he had ever seen, and long claws that reflected the sun blindingly. 

Geralt blinked, and blinked. The thing had landed on the island, curling their wings inward until they nearly looked human, though the claws were still there and their chest was covered in feathers. 

He had never seen a human, to be fair, but he had heard enough stories to know they did not look like _that_.

Geralt was wondering if the creature was planning to attack him, maybe that was why they were so silent, staring at him with the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen, and quite a few of his fellow merpeople had blue eyes. But then – “I’m sorry, I – I didn’t mean to startle you.” The creature looked unexpectedly _excited_.

He swam back, tail splashing in the water. The creature stumbled closer, surprisingly clumsy. They approached the very edge of the land, looming over him. Geralt’s tail splashed harsher through the water, a show of his nerves.

“It’s just – well, I’ve been watching you for so long,” the creature continued, feathers rustling. “The others always hide when you show up, and I joined them at first, but – “ They ducked their head, eyelashes fluttering. “I just couldn’t help myself any longer.”

They weren’t human, and certainly not a merperson, but they shared similarities. Not the wings, or the feathers, or anything like that, but their faces were similar. Similar eyes, and nose, and mouth.

A mouth that was curled in what looked like a smile. Geralt pressed his lips together, a thin line. Then suddenly he turned sharply in the water and dived under. He could hear their voice, even under the surface of the water, shouting: “Come back!”

*

Geralt didn’t return to the islands for a while. His mother asked him why he seemed to be especially mopey. He didn’t answer, just rolled his eyes before swimming off.

It was three weeks later when he returned, swimming slowly, eyes darting around, looking for any sign of the creature. The creature was nowhere to be seen. Sighing softly, he swam back to his usual spot and started to relax, reclining in the water –

“You’re back!”

Geralt startled, spinning around, glaring. The creature was back, perched at the very edge of the island like before. “What are you?” he asked, his first words to the creature.

“Don’t you know?” they asked. When Geralt didn’t answer, the creature let out a slow breath. “Oh. Um. I’m a harpy,” they explained, wings curling and uncurling. “My name is Jaskier.”

Now that he was looking closer, and knew his name, he assumed the creature was a male of his species. He wasn’t sure if that was comforting or not.

Geralt folded his arms over his chest, squinting. “Do you live on the islands?”

“Mhm,” he replied brightly, wings flapping a bit. “These islands belong to the harpies. This is our home. Just like the sea is yours.”

Geralt wanted to swim off. He should have; if the islands belonged to the harpies, and the islands belonged to the natural sworn enemy of the merpeople… But he didn’t. His curiosity was stronger than his fear, not that he would ever admit to being scared at all.

“How have I never seen you?” he asked, gruff. “I visit these waters a lot.”

Jaskier tilted his head, mouth curling. Geralt wondered if he smiled like that all the time, or just around him. “I told you, did I not?” When Geralt didn’t answer, he just continued, wings wrapping around himself, “The others hide when they see your kind near the islands. I was the same… for a while.”

“You could’ve been hurt or worse,” he replied. “Why did you show yourself?”

Jaskier just smiled wider, eyes sparkling under the morning sun. “I had a feeling you weren’t a threat, even if they didn’t.”

Grimacing, he turned away. “I come here for peace and quiet,” he said gruffly. 

“I understand,” he replied but Geralt had reason to believe he really didn’t, especially when he didn’t leave. “But, um. Well, I don’t have many friends and I was hoping – “

Geralt spun around. “You were hoping _we_ could be friends? Are you an idiot or just lacking self-preservation? Or both?”

Jaskier visibly winced, and Geralt promptly ignored the familiar pain in his chest. Guilt. 

“Right,” he replied after a moment, smiling again but there was something different about it now, forced and tight. “Very well. I’ll – I’ll let you have your privacy. Sorry for intruding.”

Before Geralt could reply, he was gone, disappearing to the sky.

*

He did not want to talk to his mother about this for obvious reasons. She didn’t even know he was visiting the islands despite her warnings. But he wanted to talk to _someone_ , which was new for him. He didn’t seek out conversation very often.

Geralt approached Vesemir after supper a few days later. Vesemir was an elder with no children. Most of the other merpeople looked to him for guidance and advice.

Geralt had never done that, before. He didn’t really like being told what to do under normal circumstances. Maybe that was why he had visited the islands in the first place. That, and his natural curiosity.

Ducking under the rocks, he wiggled his way into Vesemir’s lair. 

“Geralt,” he greeted with a look of fond surprise. “You don’t make a habit of visiting me. Did you need something?”

Vesemir beckoned him closer, and he moved without thinking. Vesemir’s lair was unlike his own, bigger and yet mostly empty. Geralt settled on a rock, already at a loss for what to say. He thought of Jaskier, of his too-bright eyes and the almost permanent smile on his face, his giant wings, the feathers a swirl of gold and red, complementary to his light skin. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and startled, looking into the eyes of the older man. “You have something you wish to tell me.” It wasn’t a question; Vesemir had always been good at reading others, and Geralt was no exception, for better or worse.

“You can’t tell my mother,” he said after a moment. “Or the others.”

Vesemir raised his eyebrows as he swam over to the rock across from him, sitting. “You know I can’t promise that,” he said, gentle but firm. “But I _will_ do what I think is best.”

Geralt actually did believe that. Unfortunately. He didn’t trust many people, not even his other mother at times, but he trusted Vesemir. They all did; he had never given them a reason to doubt him.

“I’ve been visiting the islands,” he blurted, looking away. 

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, really, but it wasn’t the silence that followed his confession. Normally he loved silence, but right then he craved to know what the other man was thinking.

Geralt turned to look at him, surprised to find that he was smiling. 

“You met one of them,” he said, “did you not?” Geralt’s hands curled into fists in his lap. He nodded curtly. Vesemir sighed, looking up. His long hair swayed back and forth in the water. “It’s not a myth, exactly,” he continued eventually. “We were natural-born enemies in the beginning.”

Geralt just stared his hands. 

“But things change. Everything changes, given time. I don’t think there’s reason to believe we have to stay that way.”

He looked up. “You don’t?” 

Vesemir was still smiling, like he found something funny. “Harpies used to attack our kind,” he said. “Kill them for food. This… person, have they attacked you? Given you a reason to fear them?”

“Jaskier,” he said before he could even think twice. “Their – his name is Jaskier.” Vesemir arched a silent eyebrow and he continued, quieter, “No, he hasn’t. He – he just talks to me.”

“There’s no harm in that,” he replied breezily. “Not if you’re okay with it.”

Geralt returned to staring at his hands. The thing was, he had started visiting the islands for peace and quiet. He should’ve been angry that his peace had been interrupted, no matter the circumstances. But he wasn’t, not really. He should’ve been, but he wasn’t. 

“But my mother…”

Vesemir tsked, “I will not tell her, boy. But you should. Maybe not now, but soon, especially if you intend to keep visiting this – Jaskier, was it?”

Geralt just nodded curtly, not knowing what to say. The only thing he knew for certain was that he planned to return to the islands, maybe not right then or even tomorrow but soon. 

He only hoped he wouldn’t be met with blessed silence. What a turn of events.

*

Geralt returned two weeks later, long enough to have worked up enough courage to –

“ _Jaskier_ ,” he called. The harpy was nowhere to be seen; the island was quiet. Frowning, he tried again and again. Nothing. It was what he deserved, perhaps, for treating him poorly. 

He turned away, just about to dive under the water when he heard –

“It’s not fair.” Geralt turned; Jaskier was standing at the edge of the island, pouting. “You know my name, and I don’t know yours.”

Geralt swam closer. “Geralt,” he said gruffly. 

Smiling again, Jaskier crouched down, offering a hand. Geralt stared it for a few long seconds. His instincts told him not to do it, to turn and swim back to safety. But since when did he listen to his instincts? He listened to _himself_. He suddenly grabbed Jaskier’s hand, squeezing. Jaskier blinked once before his smile widened. Geralt worried, briefly, about his claws – talons, really – but he did well not to hurt him. 

*

Geralt visited him once a week at first, sneaking away from the others, specifically his mother, and swimming to the islands. Jaskier was always there, waiting for him.

They didn’t talk much. Well, _he_ didn’t talk much. Jaskier was a chatterbox. 

Geralt should’ve found it annoying – and he would have, before – but now it was oddly relaxing, especially because Jaskier never asked for responses. He just talked and talked, about everything and nothing, almost like he was talking to himself.

He realized that he enjoyed it, just listening. Maybe that was why he had disliked conversations for so long; he never realized he could just sit back and let the other person do all the talking.

“Have you ever traveled?” he asked one day, breaking the cycle.

Geralt didn’t open his eyes. “No,” he said. Then, slowly, “Why?”

He heard Jaskier’s wings as they ruffled, a sure sign that he was excited or talking about something he felt strongly about. “You would enjoy it,” he said brightly, no room for argument. “I’ve been all over the Continent, but, well, you have to stay low, when you’re like this. Humans don’t take kindly to other species for the most part.”

Geralt finally opened his eyes, tilting his head to look at him. “Is it true?” he asked, unable to help himself. “Have you ever eaten one of my kind?”

Jaskier blinked once before his eyes widened and he flapped his wings, hard, a sure sign that he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I have never,” he said with a conviction he couldn’t really argue. “I – some of the elders have,” he continued after a beat, frowning, “but not me, or any of the younger harpies. We don’t – we don’t really like the idea of it.”

He nodded, looking away again. “What _do_ you eat?”

Normally he didn’t talk so much during their meetings, and he could practically feel the excitement radiating off Jaskier at the development. Whatever, he was just curious. 

“Fish, mostly,” he answered. “But we can practically eat anything. Even most land animals, but those are largely where the humans are and we try to stay away from them.”

Geralt closed his eyes. “Hmm.”

*

When he returned a week later, he felt like an idiot. “Here,” he said gruffly, tossing the fish on the land near Jaskier’s feet. The fish flopped a few times before Jaskier struck it with his talons, ending the poor thing’s suffering. He blinked at Geralt, an odd quirk to his mouth.

“Did you… bring me a _fish?_ ”

Geralt glared at him. “Do you want it or not?”

“Oh, I want,” he assured him with a toothy grin. 

*

The weeks turned to months. Geralt still hadn’t told his mother or any of the others about his weekly visits. “I told them,” Jaskier said. “About our visits.” He didn’t need to specify who; he was obviously referencing his flock – as he called them, the other harpies.

“You did?” he asked stiffly. “And how did they react?”

Jaskier sat on the edge, dipping his feet in the water. “They don’t care,” he chirped, kicking his feet and splashing water. “As long as you stay away from them, they won’t bother you or your family.”

Geralt made a face. “ _Family_ is a bit much,” he grumbled as turned to look at him.

“Sure,” he replied with a grin that made Geralt feel hot all over. Then, softer, “I know you care about them, Geralt, and how they view you. More than you care to admit.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “I know that’s why you don’t want to tell them about me.”

He tensed. “That’s not – “ he started, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s not like that.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Geralt,” he said, still just as soft. Geralt didn’t like these moments; he preferred when Jaskier was loud and rowdy. Because then he didn’t feel that _pressure_ in his chest. Like there was a hand around his heart, squeezing, squeezing. “I understand. I just hope one day you don’t feel like you have to hide from them. You’re pretty amazing, and they deserve to see that.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

*

It was at the one year mark of their friendship that Geralt finally approached his mother. He thought about simply _telling_ her about Jaskier, but…

“Come on,” he said. “Just a little closer.”

His mother – Visenna – looked at him skeptically, her shoulders a tense line. “We’re nearing the islands, Geralt,” she said sharply. 

He squeezed her wrist. “Mother,” he said. “Just – trust me, okay? Just this one time.”

She was silent for a few long seconds before nodding, following him as he swam. Geralt had discussed this with Jaskier, earlier, because he didn’t want to just show up with his mother out of the blue. When they reached the islands, Geralt led the way to the smallest of them.

Geralt knew his mother was nervous; could feel the ripples of her tail under the water, whipping back and forth.

“Jaskier,” he called. He heard the whooshing of his wings long before he saw him. He reached out and grabbed his mother’s wrist again before she could swim away. “Wait,” he said, nearly begging. He wasn’t sure he had ever begged her – or anyone – for nothing.

Maybe that was why she stayed, eyes wide as Jaskier landed before them. 

“Geralt,” she said once he had landed and the air had settled around them. She sounded surprisingly calm, and he was hopeful for a second before – “Get out of here,” she barked at the harpy, splashing the water aggressively with her tail, eyes ablaze with anger and what he could tell was fear.

He tugged her over by her wrist. “Mother,” he said as Jaskier moved back on the land, away from the away. “Mother,” he said. “You don’t understand.” When that didn’t stop her, he knew what he had to do: “ _Please_.” She finally stopped to look at him. “He’s my _friend_.”

Visenna stared at him, unblinking. Geralt wasn’t sure what else to say, but thankfully Jaskier shuffled back to the water again, clearing his throat. She looked at him with sharp eyes.

He didn’t waver for even a second. “I want you to know I am not a threat,” he said gently. Slowly, he sat. Geralt stared at his mother; she was still tense, but her eyes softened a bit as he put his wings away, curling them around his body. “I know you have reason to fear me,” he continued quietly, “but I am hoping you will be as open-minded as your son.”

His eyes flickered to Geralt. His heart did something funny and new in his chest. 

“Your son, who I have befriended over the last year,” he continued still, looking back at her. “Your son, who I love dearly and would protect with my life.”

Geralt blinked once. They had discussed, briefly, what Jaskier would say to her but none of their conversations included those words, spoken with such ease and sincerity. His mother swam forward, closer. He noticed her shaking shoulders but didn’t say anything.

“You really love him?” she asked slowly, squinting at him. “Despite your differences?”

Geralt was speechless, just a silent spectator as Jaskier smiled in that way he always did, eyes sparkling. “I love him _because_ of our differences,” he replied. It was silent after that.

Until – Visenna turned away, swimming over to her son. She put her hands on his shoulders. She was no longer shaking, he noticed idly. 

“And you, Geralt?” she asked, eyes wide and searching. “Do you feel the same?”

He barely even realized he had opened his mouth until, “Yes,” he said around the lump in his throat, eyes flickering to Jaskier. His smile widened a bit, silent encouragement, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling back, just the barest hint of sharp teeth. “I do.”

It was a confession to his mother, and Jaskier, as much as to himself.

She squeezed his shoulders and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Geralt should’ve felt embarrassed, maybe, but all he felt was loved from every direction as she pulled back, cupping the side of his face. Jaskier watched them with warm eyes.

“That’s all I ever wanted for you, my darling,” she said, and all at once he regretted ever keeping the truth from her.

But things would be _different_ now. 

*

After she had left, telling him to be back for supper, Geralt swam closer to the island, stomach a knot he couldn’t quite untangle. Not with his own hands, at least. “Did you mean it?” he asked roughly. “About – about what you said.”

Jaskier reached out a hand. The talons that had once made him so nervous were now a welcomed sight. He gripped his hand, and Jaskier smiled sweetly.

“I did,” he confirmed softly. “But you didn’t have to say it back.”

Geralt almost pointed out that he didn’t exactly say it back, not in so many words, but he could save that for later. Right now he just wanted to enjoy the moment; the warmth of Jaskier’s hand, the sweetness of his smile, the fondness in his eyes.


End file.
